Predator 5: Ambassador
by Bastet1023
Summary: Human Ambassador Jean, and her Predator guard Saren'te, travel to the Predator Homeworld to work on the treaty between the two worlds. Yet, not all are happy with the new peace. The War is over, yet the battle had just begun!
1. Takeoff

_Surprise, surprise! Part three of my Predator continuation trilogy! For any distressed readers, don't worry, I'll still be updating "Predator: Monsters", but I just needed a break. I love Preds, lycans, and vampires as much as the next guy, but after so many weeks they get a little old. This story will probably be updated at less frequent intervals because I have to pretty much rewrite the entire thing because I originally wrote it right after War of the Worlds and, thank god, my writing had improved since then. For those who are new to this series, you may want to read "Predator 3: Homeworld" and "Predator 4: War of the Worlds". So, here's the first chapter! Enjoy!_

**Predator 5: Ambassador**

**Chapter 1: Take-off**

The sun shimmered in a bright orange hue as it began to set in the Nevada desert, smearing the sky with a rainbow of color, while only the brightest of the stars broke through the light to twinkle in the sky. A vulture circled overhead, in the hopes of finding a meal before all light and hope had faded. Brush and scraggly trees dotted the landscape. The only thing even slightly out of place was the huge alien ship that sat on the large runway of the _Franklin_ hangar in the south of Nevada.

Jean leaned against the large doorframe of hangar that opened out into the desert. Her chocolate brown hair was drawn up in a tight ponytail, hanging only to her shoulders with the blunt edge of newly sheared hair, and her emerald eyes squinted in the bright light. She dressed casually in black jeans, a burgundy tank top and a leather jacket, cut long to help hide the pistol on her waist. Leather boots, calf height, provided home for a small hunting knife. She didn't think she'd need them, but it never hurt to be cautious, especially when you where hanging around a bunch of aliens that could kill, decapitate, and skin you without breaking a sweat.

She grinned slightly as she watched the yautja and humans bustle about, trying to make sure the ship was completely ready for take off. She had to admit; it was very amusing to watch the fierce, alien hunters work with their former "prey". Then again, the humans weren't so much working along side the yautja as they were trying to follow their superiors' orders while staying as far away from the aliens as possible; their tension was obvious to say the least.

The hangar was a rather large military one, one of the seven on Earth capable of somewhat handling a yautja ship. Luckily, yautja technology was more compact than human technology so the aliens were able to bring any necessary items with them.

For the most part, the humans either busied themselves with fixing any issues that dealt exclusively with the human ambassadors or watched the yautja with mixed awe and curiosity as the aliens prepared the ship. No true negotiations had been made yet, so the yautja were strictly forbidden to tell any human what they were doing. The yautja were very protective of their technology and knew that what might seem like a simple comment about the workings of the ship, could be used against them. Of course, the humans couldn't tell a yautja death-ray from their form of a garbage can, but paranoia was still at an all time high.

The ship was huge, bigger than the hangar, and it gleamed a dull gray-black in the sun. It was rather hard to describe the shape, some cross between a falcon and a fish, but as far as Jean was concerned, she didn't care what it looked like. As long as it could fly and didn't blow up or fall apart, she was just peachy.

Jean had been chosen for the position of "High-Ambassador" to the yautja home world, along with a half-dozen others who would be stationed under her. Though her promotion had been the topic of much debate, those in charge had to admit that she was one of the three humans that had ever allied with the aliens and was on good terms with them. She had yet to meet the others that had been chosen to go with her but hoped to the heavens that they were not meek or shy; that would be a major problem when dealing with the domineering aliens.

"Are you ready for your journey, Ambassador?" a throaty voice asked directly behind her.

Jean barely managed to not jump in surprise, startled out of her reverie, but answered, "I guess so, but it seems like they aren't," she gestured at the human and yautjan workers.

A yautja warrior stepped out from behind Jean, his towering seven feet and ½ frame easily dwarfing her five foot six. Dressed in the dark grey armor, but without a mask, was Saren'te, her closest yautja associate. Jean had barely gotten used to his fierce appearance, crab-mandibles, domed skull, and all. His pale, ivory skin was patterned with jagged burgundy and black stripes along with tiny bits of deep green speckling; his fluorescent, orange, infrared eyes were wide and alert, unhurt by the bright sun.

Over the past three months of planning, Jean had interacted with the young alien and the two had developed a tenuous respect for one another, though trust was too strong a word to use for their relationship. He had assisted Dutch, Harrigan, and herself in stopping a full-scale yautja invasion of Earth, though his assistance was based mostly on his own personal reasons. At the time he was a student, but was made a warrior for his actions. The small, crooked cross-shaped scar on his brow was a testament to that.

"They are merely checking for faults in the engines; they will be done soon, Ambassador."

"You're not going to be calling me 'Ambassador' the entire time we're on you home world, are you?" Jean asked, turning away from the ship to face Saren'te directly.

"Do you wish me to?" Saren'te asked back. Jean marveled at his ability to speak English so well, and could only pray she would learn the Yautja language with as much ease; unlikely.

"No," Jean said firmly; she was going to hear enough "Ambassador" already, there was no need to overdue it. She turned back to the ship, "Just 'Jean'. That's all."

"As you wish," Saren'te replied with a bow.

"So… you just here to bullshit with me or did you need something?" Jean asked.

"You have visitors," Saren'te pointed towards the back of the hangar and Jean grinned at the sight: Alan "Dutch" Schafer and Michael Harrigan strode towards her. She had known Harrigan since she was thirteen, shoved into his squad by government officials who didn't know where else to put her. The gruff former lieutenant took her under his wing while the motley crew of his "team" taught her the "ropes" of their squad: from a black ops assassin showing her how to fight with a knife to an old marine that gave her pointers on hitting a moving target when you only had one bullet left in your gun.

As for Dutch, he had only come into the picture a year or so ago. One of the first men to encounter a yautja and survive, he had been placed in a separate group sequestered away by the same government that shoved her and Harrigan together. At first she had thought he was an arrogant ass, but overtime he grew on her and vice versa.

"Are ya gonna miss me!" She called with a laugh, "I promise I'll send a postcard!"

Harrigan rolled his eyes, "You'd just better focus on staying alive than finding a postcard."

"Pish-shaw," Jean snorted, waving a hand, "You worry to much. I'll be fi-ack!" tipping over nothing, Jean stumbled, but quickly regained her footing, holding her head up like a cat that ran into a wall, stunned, but with too much pride to admit to error.

"God help us all," Dutch muttered shaking his head.

"Oh, shut up," Jean snapped.

Saren'te spoke behind her, startling her for a second time, "Have you tired of your companions that quickly?"

"It doesn't matter how much I "tire" of them; it's not likely they will just leave," Jean grumbled, pouting.

"I could… escort them away if you wish."

Jean snorted and said, "When did you start following my orders?"

Saren'te paused, "I had assumed they had told you already."

"Told me… what?" Jean asked, intrigued, turning her hawk-eyes on the alien.

"There are some Yautja that are… unhappy with the peace between us and would go to great lengths to disrupt the proceedings, including trying to… harm you. Therefore, the Elders have decided that I am to be your personal guard. All the ambassadors are to have a guard."

Jean blinked, "Wait a minute. You're telling me, that you are my bodyguard and have to do pretty much everything I say?"

Saren'te's eyes grew suspicious, "To an extent, yes."

"You're in for a world of hurt now," Dutch told the Predator, "You're going to be her personal slave …" Dutch couldn't help but feel sorry for the alien; he was in for quite a trip.

"Meh, not so much a slave… more like a servant…" Jean grinned at the distressed alien, "I'm still surprised you two aren't coming with me," Jean turned back to the guys; as much as she denied it, she was going to miss them.

"They need us here for the other negotiations. Hopefully, if you screw up, we'll be able to correct it here," Harrigan said.

Jean was about to snap back when the main doors opened and a group of six people, with guards on all sides, entered the room. They all wore rather proper looking clothing, suits and ties for the men, modest blouses and skirts or slacks for the women. Some were young, others older, but they all stuck close to each other like a pack of wildebeest parading in front of a lion pride.

"Who the hell are they?" Jean asked. They're eyes darted around in unison, each looking in a different direction, jerking at sudden sound a movement.

"They are the other ambassadors that will be joining you to my home world," Saren'te answered. "I suppose you wish to introduce yourself."

"I guess," Jean said with a shrug, approaching the group of people and jumping on top of a nearby crate and snapping her fingers to get their attention. It may not be the most formal of introductions, but if it got the job done it was good enough for Jean.

"Ok, people gather around, and be quick about it!" Jean smiled, thinking she could get used to bossing people around. It was quite fun.

"Who are you?" one of the men asked, his accent betraying his British heritage. His hair was a white blond, short and somewhat spiked. He looked a little like a punk-rock star whose parents made him join a business firm.

"I am Jean Ann Raisa, the 'High-Ambassador', and pretty much your boss," Jean answered smugly, puffing herself up.

"Wait a minute," one of the older men interrupted. He had a black goatee and black hair, but seemed to be balding; his lack of accent made Jean guess that he was American, "You're the High-Ambassador? You're a kid!" His voice was deep and he seemed to have a natural flair for glaring and had a pale, almost pasty face. Not a very pleasant looking person.

Jean narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of Harrigan and Dutch trying to muffle their laughter. "I am actually nineteen so I am an adult and have far more experience with these guys than you've had in your dreams, so I'm also the most qualified to head this mission.

"Oh? And what exactly is this _experience_?" The man crossed his arms and the other adults, almost all seemingly older than Jean, regarded her with mixed amounts of curiosity, confusion, and skepticism.

"Well, between getting the temporary cease-fire signed between us and them and taking Vicanti's bullet I say I've built a fairly impressive resume."

"That was you?" a short redheaded woman blurted out before she could stop herself; she had a rougher accent, very Slavic, so Jean pegged her as a Russian.

Jean smiled and pulled back part of her shirt, showing the new white scar from the bullet. The stuff Saren'te had put on it really helped with making the scar seem smaller, but she wasn't about to tell him that; that would only give the alien more incentive to slap more of that scalding blue crap on her.

Jean's grin widened when she saw the looks of shock on the people faces. "Now as I was saying, hopefully we will be able to work together with at least a small amount of peace at the appropriate times. To put in bluntly, if we are snapping at each others' throats, these guys," Jean gestured to Saren'te, "are going to wipe the floor with us. Basically, be nice to an extent." Jean leveled a glare of the goatee guy, "Or I'll have my bodyguard here take care of you."

Everyone looked at Saren'te with no small amount of fear; Saren'te turned his head in their direction and minutely shook his head at the group, which visibly relaxed.

"Don't worry about her attitude! You get used to it after a while!" Dutch shouted over.

"Or you could just ignore her!" Harrigan added. Jean gave the two her death-glare and was considering giving them a rather rude hand gesture when Saren'te interrupted her.

"The ship is ready." Jean glanced out the hangar doors and saw that the humans that had been bustling about were almost all in the hangar and the last few Yautja were climbing aboard. The ambassadors' had been told to bring very few items, basic toiletries and other random knickknacks. The Yautja had assured them they would be provided whatever they needed to a certain extent.

Jean gestured for the people to disperse and hopped down from the crate she had stood on. Walking over to Dutch and Harrigan, Jean said, "Don't do anything stupid that's going to affect me over there. The last thing I need is to deal with pissed off Yautja all because you did something stupid."

"I actually think it is us who should be worrying about that," Harrigan said. Jean smiled and hugged Harrigan, then Dutch.

"Back to the arena for round two, ha ha!" Jean shouted, pumping her fist in the air and jogging towards the group of ambassadors who were moving towards the ship. Saren'te was about to turn and follow her when Harrigan called to him.

With all seriousness, Harrigan said in a hushed tone, "Don't let anything happen to her, or we'll both be after you."

Saren'te gave a small bow, "I will protect her with my life."

Harrigan smiled slightly and nodded goodbye to the Predator that joined Jean as she walked up and into the ship.

"I hope she'll be ok," Harrigan said to Dutch.

"It's not Jean I'm worried about," Dutch answered.

_Hope you liked it! Please review! Btw, this story is dedicated to Stan "the Man" Winston, who died recently. He was the AMAZING creator of Predator, Terminator, the Alien Queen, and the T-Rex from Jurassic Park. Stan, you were a phenomenal artist and you will be missed._


	2. Introduction and Inoculation

_THIS STORY LIVES! Indeed, I've recently seen the movie PREDATORS and it was just what I needed to get my butt back into writing mode. I've got lots of stuff planned for this story, but I just need to get it out onto paper/my computer. Also, an important note: I reedited the first chapter of this story. Nothing too extreme, but it's just an FYI. So if anyone is still reading this series (I hope so) here's chapter 2! Thanks to __**Warrior of Virtue, Spacefan, Rain of Mystery, lamyka, blood shifter, Golden Wind, Dark vengeance, **__and __**Alive At 2PM **__for the reviews; this update is for you guys!_

**Chapter 2: Introduction and Inoculation**

Jean stared at the mass of straps and metal clamps in confusion before turning to Saren'te, "Umm, I'm assuming that the point of all this," she waved a hand at the straps, "is to hope that should we crash, we'll be caught in this spiderweb of straps which will prevent our bodies from becoming organic projectiles, right?"

Saren'te made a soft rattle and gave Jean a little shove into the seat. Within seconds she was tightly secured in her harness. Jean blinked, "How'd ya do that so fast?"

"It is much simpler mechanism than it appears," Saren'te said simply, taking his place next to her and strapping himself in. Jean watched as the other ambassadors, as confused as she'd been, allowed the yautja to secure them. As the pilots and mechanics disappeared into the ship's interior, six yautja stayed behind, each complementing a human ambassador.

The interior of the ship was fairly creepy to say the least. Even in the take off area, the walls throbbed with red orange heartbeat, illuminating the recessed designs within; the light made it seem as if the ship itself was alive. However, the usual mist was absent and the air, though it hung with a strange odor, was breathable for both human and yautja alike.

"Where are the others going?" she asked Saren'te as the final yautja that was not strapped in left the room.

"This room was designed especially for you and the ambassadors," he explained, "There is a secondary room that the others will use to secure themselves."

"Why didn't they just add more seats in here?"

"Because this area is linked to an escape vessel." At Jean's confused expression, Saren'te explained, "If there is something wrong with the ship, whether intentional or not, this area is designed to detach from the main ship and take the ambassadors to safety. No others besides these hand-picked guards may be on this part of the ship should an assassin attempt to destroy it as well."

Jean blinked, "Dude, we aren't even off the damn planet and already we are under death-threats?"

"Yes."

Jean's response was cut off by the closing of the entry ramp, which shut with a load slam and hiss, while mechanical whirls and clanks began to echo throughout the ship and the entire structure began to vibrate violently. Jean clutched at her harness and sighed… she didn't even like plane take-offs, so this one was _really_ going to suck.

* * *

Jean and all of the other ambassadors sighed once Saren'te removed his harness and instructed the other yautja to do the same for themselves and the humans. The take off had been rough and though no one had hurled, most of them looked like they weren't quite out of the danger zone of doing so.

Saren'te rattled something off in his language and turned to Jean, "I can escort you to your residence." Jean nodded and followed as Saren'te led her deeper into the ship. After the first few turns, the hallways began to blur together and Jean became thoroughly lost, "How the hell do are you supposed to find your way around here?"

Gesturing to the walls, Saren'te responded, "Heat signatures within the walls act as references as to where we are in the ship; you will have to find your way through memory."

"Well this sucks," Jean muttered.

"You had better practice; the structures within this vessel are similar to the those you will see on the home world. At times you may entire areas where there is no light at all and you will have to rely on your other senses to guide you." Jean sighed and gestured for Saren'te to continue to lead her… hopefully he'd be kind enough to act as her guide until she had started to get a hang of finding her way around.

They paused at what seemed like just another expanse of wall; it proved otherwise when Saren'te tapped a complicated pattern into a small flat expanse of the wall, which slid open with a soft hiss revealing a room beyond.

Curiosity prodding her, Jean darted into the room, taking in the Spartan features: a raised pad took up the length of one wall that, when prodded with her foot, proved to be elastic and padded, the yautja version of a bed. It lacked both a blanket and pillow but the temperature on the ship was just shy of an uncomfortable heat and humidity, making the need for a blanket unlikely.

The opposing wall was lined with a shelf that was firmly attached to the wall with a simple, though high, metal stool that was bolted to the floor; perhaps a type of desk? Under it she was relieved to see the two bags she had brought with her. Next to it, after a tap by Saren'te on another pad located just above the desk, four panels opened in the wall, revealing empty spaces for storage… though Jean had to wonder, if this ship was not new, what had been stored in them prior to her moving in.

"This is to be your quarters for the passage to our home world," Saren'te said, "The lavatory in through there," he pointed at an opening mirroring the entrance to the room, "And I can give you instructions on hw to properly use it."

"I think I can manage how to use your version of a toilet," Jean laughed, "How different can it be?"

"You use water to dispose of waste. We use fire."

"Oh… well, maybe a tutorial is in order," Jean stammered, wondering exactly what he meant by that. The last thing she needed was third-degree burns on her ass.

The conversation lulled and Jean decided that she might as well unpack. The first bag she opened contained an assortment of books and framed pictures. She began to pile them haphazardly on the desk, choosing to organize them after she had them all sorted out.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Saren'te removed his mask from his belt and placed it over his face, a snap of electricity crackling as he hooked it into the wires that connected to its' power supply. He tapped the gauntlet on his left wrist a few times before reaching over and delicately picking up one of the picture frames, "What are these?"

"Photos… sort of captured images," Jean explained, "Humans generally take them during significant events in their lives."

Saren'te nodded in understanding as he picked up another frame, pausing before picking another.

As Jean dug in her bag wonder where the hell she put her toothbrush, she heard a soft trill; turning she glanced at Saren'te, "What's up?"

The photos were fascinating. Saren'te had never really paid attention to such details of humans before, but he soon began to recognize their significance. Most of the photos were of humans, he recognized the images of Jean's clan mates Harrigan and Dutch, but most of the other humans and images were a mystery to him.

He picked up one of the last photos and paused. Three humans were the center for this image. To adults, a male and female, and one youngling, also female, perhaps just reaching the juvenile age. Saren'te stared at the juvenile, her image seemingly familiar. He glanced at Jean and made the connection, trilling in surprise.

At Jean's beckoning, he passed her the photo, "You are a youngling in this one."

Jean frowned as she took the picture, her face becoming soft, then blank, "Yeah, I was twelve I think… can't really remember…" she muttered, handing the photo back.

Saren'te scrutinized the frame more, noting the adults and their similarities to Jean, suddenly feeling stupid for not realizing it at the start, "These other humans… they are your bearer and sire?"

"They're my mom and dad if that's what you mean," was Jean's curt answer.

"You were not fond of them?" Saren'te asked, misinterpreting Jean's tone.

"They're dead."

The sharpness of her tone finally made it's impression on Saren'te and delicately set the picture down, not wanting to prompt a fight with Jean the first day they were on the ship. Instead he started glancing through the various human books that were piling up on her desk, the topmost of which had yautjan symbols on it.

Quickly taking it before Jean could pile more tomes of top of it, Saren'te switched his vision in his mask to infrared, and ran his hand over the book, which was actually more of a large packet of papers. Sure enough, the heat from his hand was absorbed by the delicate ink of the book that flared red against a background of blue.

"You received a guide to our culture?" Saren'te asked, reading the title. Unfortunately, only the title was written in both yautjan and human ink. The rest of the tome was printed in the typical human ink, in tiny symbols in groups he could not begin to understand.

"Yeah, not that it was of much use."

Saren'te hissed, "You did not read it?"

"No."

He growled in exasperation, "You cannot expect to ignore our culture and customs and expect to survive your stay on our home world without insulting someone and having them rip you apart for it!"

"Hey," Jean pulled the last book out of her bag and slapped it down on top of the others, "If I could read it I would have!" At Saren'te lack of response Jean grabbed the book from his hands, opened to one of the first pages and read, "_Yautja customarily are human stricter than in protocol formal._ What the hell? For an advance species, with my language being the 'inferior' one, you guys sure don't have a clue how to properly translate a children's book; let alone a full-fledged textbook like this!"

"Perhaps if your language obeyed it's own grammar this translation would not be so difficult," Saren'te snapped back.

"You seemed to catch on fine; you spoke better English a month after I met you than half the humans I've met in my lifetime."

"That was achieved through careful study and observation of human speech and it's patterns; those who made this likely did not even speak to a human during it's writing," Saren'te grumbled, reluctantly taking what was Jean's version of a complement.

Jean shrugged, "Meh, not a big deal. I mean how important can it be? What?" She leaned away from the hostile stare Saren'te was giving her.

"Not important? Do you even know how to formally greet a yautja?"

"Yeah I do… it's it that hand on the shoulder-shake thingy?"

Saren'te gave a low rattle, "That is an informal greeting used primarily among yautja who are either kith or kin."

"Oh… well what's the formal one?"

"Stand. Arms at your sides, not fists. Now, make your right hand a fist and bring it up… not that high; shoulder height. Bring it across your chest to your other shoulder. Place one leg out as if you were stepping… wrong leg…"

"Does it really matter what damn leg I step with?" Jean snapped, feeling like an idiot.

"Yes," Saren'te moved forward, tapping her arms and shoulders into better posture, "The wrong leg can be interpreted as a sign of disrespect… don't bend the knee, keep the entire leg straight. Now, dip your head lightly. Good."

"This is all just for saying hello?"

Saren'te nodded, "And you do this just beyond striking range."

"Striking range?"

"Two arms lengths away; it signals respect for their position and their abilities without showing signs of challenge. If you are too close you are saying you don't fear them and then don't respect them."

Jean blinked, "Jeez, you guys are picky."

"Body-language, as you call it, is the primary way we communicate; it is much easier to tell the mood of a yautja through how they are moving. Even you and your fellows should be able to discern basic moods after your first encounters with us."

"I hope so… God knows I'd hate to start up the war again if I sneezed wrong."

"Also, concerning you health…" Saren'te trailed off, pulling out a square-ish black object that Jean had neglected to see him carrying, "You need to be inoculated before we reach the home world, the sooner the better."

"Inoculated? What do you mea… oh hell no!" Jean backed away quickly, staring at the large syringe Saren'te had pulled out of the case, "Not again!"

Saren'te rattled, glaring, "Would you rather contract a fatal disease upon stepping on our home world? You have no immunity to the organisms there and this is critical for you to stay healthy and alive." At Jean's twitch when he took a step toward her he growled, "You have three choices: you may sit and let me give this to you, I can attempt to hold you down and give it to you by force, or I will wait until you are not paying attention, I'll give you a sedative, and administer it to you when you can no longer move. It is your choice, _Ambassador_."

Scowling, Jean spat, "You'd drug me?"

"If necessary to keep you in good health… yes."

Jean stuck her tongue out at the alien, but grudgingly sat down, offering her arm.

"This is not an inoculation made for an extremity."

"Than when the hell does it go?" Jean asked, actually feeling a little scared.

"The two most agreeable places for you would likely be your stomach or buttocks."

"You ain't jabbing me in the ass with that! I take the stomach."

"Then lay down."

"Ohhhhh," Jean whined, laying down on the bench-bed reluctantly, "Shouldn't this be done in, like, a medical room or something?"

"The other ambassadors will be receiving theirs in the healers quarters; however, since I am proficient at basic healing techniques, I am qualified to administer to you."

"Wait," Jean tilted her head, "You're a doctor?"

"A healer in-training actually…" Saren'te trailer off, filling the syringe and checking for air, "All yautja are required to have a second skill in addition to our hunting. When we are not on hunts, we must use our skills to contribute to our clan's welfare. Some warriors will have more than one other skill, in the even they are injured and their primary skill is compromised."

"Hmm, interesting. How does your economy work? Do you have jobs or currency?"

Saren'te heated the needle with a tiny laser, "We barter, trade our skills with for those with another. Though most basic work is performed by _etas_. Move the material."

Jean pulled up her shirt, her stomach naturally curling away from the needle as if it knew it was going to be in a lot of pain, very soon, "Etas?"

"I believe the term _servant_ suffices in your language, though _slave_ would do."

"Woah, hold up!" Jean sat up to Saren'te's irritation, "You guys have slaves?"

"If a warrior can no longer hunt and has nothing else to offer to the clan, they've lost their honor… the only way to regain it is through serving the clan as well as they can. This is why it is often better to die in battle than to survive maimed… now, lie down."

"Wow… that's kinda cold."

"I feel no change in temperature," Saren'te responded, tipping his head.

"No, not that. I mean, don't you feel, I don't know, guilty, for making them serve you?" she asked as she lied back down at Saren'te urging.

"No. For if I were injured, I would expect the same treatment from my clan; it is our way, the Path. Now hold still, this will hurt."

Jean tried to relax as Saren'te spread his hand and placed it on her stomach, applying pressure to ensure she would not be moving.

She managed to stay still but could not hold back a long string of curses as the needle pierced skin and the plunger was pressed.

_Did you like it? Review and let me know! Btw, I'm off to Montreal for a Plant Biology conference so I won't be updating/around for a bit._


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